


How To Care

by tj_teejay



Category: Bomb Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tj_teejay/pseuds/tj_teejay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd forgotten how to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [with_rainfall](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=with_rainfall).



> Rating: PG-13  
> Genre: Het  
> Author's Note: Written as a response to a [prompt](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/367572.html?thread=63976404#t63976404) in the LJ community comment_fic. Perhaps not a literal or perfect fill for the prompt, but it’s what popped into my mind when I read it.
> 
> +-+-+-+-+

He’d been so wrapped up in his own rancour, his own anger, that he’d forgotten how to care. When World War I started—he’d been 18 at the time—life had been so full of potential, of hope, of ideas. Then he was lying in the Belgian trench, the artillery fire started, and the next thing he knew, he was on a cot with his legs all mangled up in blood and flesh. Life had been pain, frustration and disappointment from then on.

Now, twenty-five years later, life had transformed into a long string of whisky-fueled numbness, wrapped in carefully crafted routine, interrupted by precious few moments of significance that became less and less as time went by.

Lying in this bed that had become so familiar, he slowly realized what had woken him from his sleep. His wife. The one fixture in his life. The sound was unmistakable, she was crying—quiet sobs she didn’t care to suppress. The mattress was shaking lightly with her hitched breath.

He lay still, feeling helpless. The majority of emotions he dealt with these days were centered around resentfulness and embitterment. He pressed his eyes shut when another sob escaped her lips, and he softly said her name.

“Lorna?”

She flinched, one quick snuffle, two hands that came up to wipe the tears away.

“Oh God, Bob,” she quickly sobered. “Did I wake you?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s... nothing. Go back to sleep.”

He was tempted to just accept the answer, take the easy way out, take her word for it. He’d forgotten how to care.

“It’s not nothing,” he probed, his voice too loud in the confines of their darkened bedroom.

“It doesn’t matter,” she evaded.

“Lorna,” he tried again. “Tell me what’s got you so shaken up.”

“Bob, please leave it alone. For now. For me. Please.”

That stunned him into silence for a moment. “Alright,” he finally whispered.

He slid his hand closer to her face, gently pushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. He could feel her moving closer, and his arm wrapped around her warm body. There was a reluctance that was usually reserved for him, for those moments of self-loathing he knew she hated so much, but it only lasted a second. Then she leaned into the touch, accepting the comfort of his gesture, of his presence.

He could sense her relaxing, could feel her breathing becoming calmer, her chest rising in even breaths as they honoured the mutual solace.

He’d forgotten how to care. Maybe he could learn again.


End file.
